


Next Step: Going Back

by Jenni_Snake



Series: Imagine Sisyphus Happy [6]
Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Angst, Coping, Established Relationship, M/M, Moving On, Past Child Abuse, Self-Harm, Tattoos, Therapy, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-28
Updated: 2013-09-28
Packaged: 2017-12-27 19:50:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/982927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenni_Snake/pseuds/Jenni_Snake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Newton is doing his best to deal with his past through therapy, but he's still learning and sometimes trips up. As he confesses his latest slip to Hermann, Hermann does his best to be as supportive as possible. He wishes he could do more to help, but the time and circumstances are not yet right.</p>
<p>(Mature rating for some mention of sex, and for dealing with difficult topics.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Next Step: Going Back

It had only been a month after they moved to California that Newton had started to wait until the lights were out. Lying next to Hermann under the covers, he would place his hand on Hermann's chest, moving it down to his navel, then further to the very light, meandering line of hairs just at the base of his belly. If Hermann’s breathing didn't quicken, or he didn't squirm and moan, Newton would would content himself with draping his arm over him and resting his head on his shoulder.

If he did squirm, though, or pant or lean over for a kiss, brushing his fingertips over the hair at the nape of Newton’s neck, then Newton would crawl over him, one leg on each side of his hips. He would bunch the covers up behind him, over Hermann’s shins and feet so he wouldn’t get too cold.

It was one of those nights. Straddled on top of him, Newton pawed softly at Hermann’s stomach with his palms, glided them up over his chest, then down along his arms. He stopped, fingers laid lightly on Hermann’s arm just above his hand, thumbs rubbing circles over the inside of his wrists, seeming to have forgotten that just a minute before he had instead been rubbing his cock against Hermann’s.

Even though Hermann couldn’t see Newton’s eyes, even in the faint light of the near-darkness, he knew he was elsewhere. He took Newton’s wrists in turn, one of which sported a large plaster, covering what, Hermann didn’t know. It had taken a lot of restraint not to ask, but he kept reminding himself that, until he was told, it wasn’t his business, just like the tattoos. In daylight or at night, Hermann couldn’t quite remember the last time he had seen Newton’s tattoos. He just knew he shouldn’t ask about it. Idly, he played with the edge of the bandage with his thumbnail. Newton sighed.

“Yeah, that’s been there for a while.”

“Six weeks,” Hermann said automatically.

Newton let out a dry, short laugh.

"Nothing gets by you, doesn't it?"

Hermann swallowed and licked his lips. Of all the things he was still learning, timing and diplomacy had been the newest.

"Did you want to talk about it?" he asked.

"No,” Newton said without a thought. After a moment, he continued with a sigh. “But I'm not supposed to do that. Not talk about it, I mean. I mean - I mean that I am supposed to talk about it, and I didn't - I haven’t said anything - but I promised. I promised Steve - well, I guess more I promised myself, he just happened to be there, I guess therapy is like that..."

Hermann squeezed Newton’s wrists lightly to try to focus him.

"Newton..."

Newton sighed sadly.

"It just..." he began, voice just barely loud enough to hear, "I guess it makes me embarrassed."

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

"Well, see," Newton said, voice rising and creaking in contradiction, putting up a hand even in the dark, "see, now, now that's - that’s where you’re wrong..."

He pulled the plaster off, wincing a bit as it pulled at his skin and the hairs on his arm. Hermann rubbed his thumb over the area, then did the same with his fingers, but couldn’t feel anything and didn’t see anything in the dark. It was impossible to tell what was wrong. So he waited, allowing Newton to come to it on his own.

“I… I just wanted them gone. I - I just wanted you to be able to see me,” he said, voice quiet. He lost his hesitation as he continued, his embarrassment manifesting in the softness of his voice instead. “So I thought, I mean it seemed like I was thinking, but now I don’t know what I was thinking, but - I mean, it’s ink, right? I wanted to erase it. And it made sense that, like, the best way to get it off was fading it away.”

His voice dropped even quieter.

“And I didn’t know how to erase it except by… maybe bleaching it off…”

It seemed that Newton found it hard to break his habit of rambling in the hopes that it would distract from anything important that he didn’t want to say, and the admission pushed him to fill the silence with words.

“I mean it seemed logical, right? So, yeah, but it burned and then it bled a bit, and… and - and that’s when I stopped, but not because I realized how stupid it was, just because it hurt too much.”

Such a direct confession was something unusual for Newton, so Hermann tried to respect it, remain quiet. He stroked Newton’s arms to try to keep him calm, because he could feel his breathing quicken, hear the panic and the tears gathering in his throat. Even so, Newton continued, quickly, as if not wanting to be interrupted, especially by his own reluctance.

“I - I think through it all I knew that I just wanted to hurt myself - and I know you’re going to feel sorry for me but don’t, okay? Because it’s not what I want. And really, it makes me feel stupid - and I know, I know! - it shouldn’t, but it does.”

He was trying to keep his voice level, but it wavered between pleading and self-doubt as he negotiated his way through the ordering of his thoughts as they came out, trying to make sense of what had been swirling in his brain.

“I feel so stupid because I’m not sad all the time, but then something like this makes it seem like I am, but I’m really, really not. It’s just… how was that supposed to go? Steve said it... It’s because - because I have trouble owning the right things - taking responsibility for things that I shouldn’t. So I still feel sometimes like getting all these damned tattoos was a mistake and I shouldn’t have done it, and I feel sometimes like I did it just to spite him, but he was my uncle, and I feel like I should forgive him because he was family, but I know I don’t have to, but it doesn’t make me feel any less guilty.”

Tripping over himself, Newton rambled to the end of his thought like a race to get it out, to not let it stay to fuel the anger inside him. There was another pause before he resumed, more subdued.

“And I know it doesn’t sound like I’m coping, sometimes I don’t feel like I am, either. But I am - I mean, I’m being told I am. But also that it’s going to be a lifetime of reminding myself that I wasn’t the one in the wrong… It’s just there are a lot of reminders, and I’m still trying to sort through all of them.”

Without a second thought, Newton reached out and switched on lamp on Hermann’s nightstand. It was almost as if he had finished what he needed to say and didn’t want to go back to it.

“See, it was there,” he said nervously, pointing at his wrist and holding it out for Hermann, “I mean, you can barely see it! There’s, uh, there’s a bit of a scar and it’s over Trespasser's skull so it's white anyway and it doesn't hurt and…”

Hermann examined him gently as Newton trailed off. He was trying to control the shaking in his own hands, trying to push away the panic that had invaded his chest from the moment Newton’s admission had left his mouth, trying to keep his protectiveness at bay, giving Newton the support and the space he needed to deal with his trauma and come to his peace on his own. He offered only what he could, placing a kiss on Newton’s thankfully little injured wrist, then on the back of his hand, and finally in his palm.

“Whether your skin is covered in ink or not, it’s you I see. And I love you.”

“Thank you,” Newton whispered, and his weariness was visible as he collapsed, laying himself on Hermann, chest to chest, dropping his head onto his shoulder and embracing him. He was left exhausted from the inopportune moment his confession chose to manifest itself. Hermann stroked his hair, and then helped him struggle to cover them both again with the blankets when he rolled off from on top of him. Hermann flicked off the bedside light and held Newton from behind as they drifted toward sleep.

“Hermann?” he mumbled.

“Hmm?”

“I love you, too.”

Hermann nuzzled the nape of his neck in response. Newton muttered again.

“I’m bored. Stir crazy - going crazy. Want to work… Four months...”

And a small snore told Hermann that he wouldn’t have to talk about that, and he fell asleep right after him.

\---

“Mr. Choi,” Hermann said with a nod, over the computer link.

“Dr. Gottlieb,” Tendo replied in a good-natured, mocking tone. “Just checking in. Anything interesting in the Challenger Deep data?”

“Nothing,” replied Hermann, “but we’re still trying to interpret some of it - some of the anomalies might be of interest. Still, nothing as concerning as that spike at the end of March.”

Tendo shrugged and frowned.

“Well, I guess that’s it! Very productive meeting,” he said with a salute and a grin. Hermann tried to force a smile.

“How is your wife?” he asked awkwardly, wondering why he hadn’t just let the conversation end. “Your son?”

“Yeah, good!” Tendo said, only slightly surprised at the question. “Here in Hong Kong now, helping out. Everybody loves building a memorial!”

He smirked, and Hermann found he couldn’t help but return it. Then Tendo’s eyes darted away momentarily, then back.

“How’s, uh… How’s your husband?”

Hermann let the quip slide, but he grew serious.

“I wish I could say. We still have to await word from his… physician.”

“Well, give him my best, Hermann. Hope to have him in good shape and back to work soon.”

“So do I, Mr. Choi. So do I.”


End file.
